


Never Ending Circles

by JadeSabre83



Series: Rhiona's Story [3]
Category: Inbound Flight, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Depictions of nonconsensual medical procedures, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Inbound Flight shenanigans, Memory Loss, Plotting with Queenie needs its own tag, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeSabre83/pseuds/JadeSabre83
Summary: Is it some other part of the prison? Like where they sent the really bad folks? Had she gotten in one tussle too many? Had Eli (finally) grown tired of waiting for her to give them some sort of useful information?Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Every muscle in Rhiona’s body tenses as they get closer. She may not know where she is or what’s going on, but she does know this: Rhiona Lascelles does not go down without a fight.Rhiona gets introduced to life at the Csoen'ehe'ah'otcahi Genome Research Facility.
Series: Rhiona's Story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158932
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	Never Ending Circles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenie Chi Cosplay (QueenieWithABeenie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Inbound Flight: For Home and Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898) by [QueenieWithABeenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/pseuds/QueenieWithABeenie). 



> Heed the tags, folks. This one is _heavy_ on the whump.
> 
> A sequel to [ Hope is not an absolute](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943985). As always, make sure you're caught up on [Inbound Flight: For Home and Song.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493898/chapters/69820137)

Rhiona has stared down some pretty scary folks throughout the years, but this one—who must be in charge of this place if the air of authority surrounding her is any indication—goes beyond that. She’s...soulless.  _ Terrifying _ . The woman stares at Rhiona for less than ten seconds, sizing her up, then barks out a series of orders in Cheunh. Rhiona catches most of it, something about  _ samples _ and  _ conditioning, _ and even with her tenuous grasp of the language she knows whatever it is can’t be good. 

So she puts up one hell of a fight as they drag her out of the cell and into an equally sterile and all-white corridor housing multiple cells like hers. Even in the midst of struggling she takes note of this, and idly wonders just how many other people (prisoners?) there are here.

Or where  _ here _ is in the first place.

There’s no discernable features, no signs, nothing to set it apart and clue her in. Just an endless white corridor and the occasional Chiss (soldier? medic?) who barely spare her a moment’s glance. 

The only break in the monotony comes when they reach what appears to be a clinic, though even here the walls and floor are all white. There’s several Chiss standing around, no doubt waiting for her arrival, and lots of medically-looking equipment. In the center of it all is a narrow bed...with thick, leather straps.

Rhiona’s eyes go wide at seeing those, her attempts to break free increasing ten-fold. She kicks and screams as they get her on the bed, hurling insults (in Basic  _ and _ Cheunh) when the straps go around her wrists and ankles. She resorts to begging in broken Cheunh as they strap down her legs and torso before they start hooking her up to the machines. It’s when they attach two large, round pads to either side of her head that the panic becomes too much to bear.

“What are y’all doin’ to me?” Tears stream down her face as she asks the question in Basic, just on the off chance that someone understands her, then she repeats it in Cheunh. 

One of the Chiss (who she’s decided looks like a nurse) actually appears to consider responding before thinking better of it. Rhiona decides to try again, looking directly at that particular nurse, but before she can even get out a single word something large and rubber is being shoved in her mouth. 

The pads on her head hum to life before emitting an electrical  _ zap! _ It’s surprising, and it  _ hurts, _ and...and something doesn’t feel right. She feels, well, she feels like something very bad is about to happen, and then—

~~~

Rhiona wakes up with a pitiful whimper, feeling like she’s just been hit by a train. She goes to move a hand to her aching head, only to find that she can’t move her hand. Or the other hand. Or her legs.

Panic sets in, and she opens her eyes to a set of Chiss that she’s never seen before standing around her. They’re in what looks like some sort of clinic, but  _ nothing _ like where Vuiskelisa had taken her two months ago when she accidentally cut her hand while on kitchen duty.

Come to think of it, none of these Chiss are dressed like the guards or medics of Rei’cs’enb’ahcs.

That’s when the panic  _ really _ takes hold, squeezing her chest and twisting her stomach into knots. Her lungs burn as she struggles against the restraints, her breaths coming in tiny, ragged gasps, but nobody is telling her to  _ rt'esah, Nala. _

“Where am I?” She asks, but her words are slurred, like she’s been drugged or something. She tries repeating the question in Cheunh, but her head hurts  _ so _ much that even thinking of the translation is impossible. In fact, thinking in general feels impossible at the moment. Her head is all fuzzy, like that one time she drank too much ‘shine at her brother Corbin’s wedding and wound up going home with one of the bridesmaids (and the bridesmaid’s boyfriend), except instead of waking up sandwiched between two folks in the morning she’s, well, she’s wherever the hell this is.

Is it some other part of the prison? Like where they sent the  _ really _ bad folks? Had she gotten in one tussle too many? Had Eli (finally) grown tired of waiting for her to give them some sort of useful information?

Her thoughts are (un)fortunately interrupted by a sharp pinch in her arm, and though she can’t seem to lift her head to see what they’re doing it feels an awful lot like they're taking blood samples.

“What’re you doin’?” Her words are (slightly) more coherent now, and though she doesn’t expect them to actually understand Basic, she’s at least expecting one of them to acknowledge that she’s spoken with a look of some sort. Hell, she’ll even take a roughly ground out  _ be quiet _ , but the medics are carrying on as though she’s not, well, an  _ actual person. _ She’s too tired to track their conversation, but she does catch them spouting off what sounds like her prisoner number, except the first part is different now.

_ What the hell is going on? _

“Ttis'ah.”  _ Please. _ That single word comes out clearly. And full of desperation and fear and panic, and while it finally seems to get their attention it’s not in the way she had hoped for.

They tighten the straps holding her down, and add in a new one, this one going across her forehead, securing her head to the bed. Then she feels something cold and wet dabbing at her head, right at the hairline, followed closely by a  _ slicing, _ burning pain, like they’re cutting her head open. And then—

_ Is that a  _ drill?

The sound gets closer and closer, and just as she’s about to ask (again) what they’re doing, her question is cut off by a blood curdling scream.

_ Her _ scream.

There’s nothing but pain.  _ So much pain. _ Pain worse than when she broke her arm or when she nearly drowned. Worse even than watching her brother Jax die on the bridge of the  _ Devastator. _ She screams (and  _ screams) _ , hot tears streaming down her face. The edges of her vision start to turn black, and rather than fighting it any longer she just...gives in.

~~~

When she wakes up again her head feels even worse than it did before, but at least this time she isn’t strapped down to a bed. Rhiona whimpers, moving her hands to cradle her aching, throbbing head. She winces when she brushes up against a spot high on her forehead, and—

—and remembers the sound of the drill, the blinding pain. And the screaming; all the screaming and crying that didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever on the people standing around her.

What the  _ hell _ is going on? What  _ is _ this place?

She slowly opens her eyes, her vision clearing after blinking a few times, and takes a look at the cell. There’s a vague sense of familiarity to it, which doesn’t make sense at all because this cell—with its sterile white floor and sterile white walls and sterile white ceiling—is nothing at all like the cell she’s been calling home for the past three or so months. Neither does it look like the isolation cell she’d briefly been placed in after her first tussle.

So, she’s in an unknown cell in some unknown place, with no memory of how she got here. Or  _ why. _

The last thing she can remember is leaving one of her language lessons. Vuiskelisa had—wait. Why does it  _ hurt _ to think about him? There’s an ache in her chest at the mere thought of her friend and tutor, as though something bad had happened. But she had just seen him.

Or had she?

Something ain’t right.

Rhiona doesn’t know  _ what, _ just that the sense that something is off only grows worse with each passing second. That feeling follows her as she drifts off into a restless, dreamless sleep.

~~~

Time works differently in prison.

It’s a fact that Rhiona had never anticipated experiencing first hand, but at least at Rei’cs’enb’ahcs the monotony of life in prison was broken up throughout the day by various activities.

Here? Here there’s just this cell.

They haven’t even brought her anything to eat or drink yet. 

Rhiona remembers learning about the Rule of Threes while going through the academy; three minutes without oxygen, three days without water, three months without food.That’s the only way she knows that it hasn’t been three days yet, but despite that fact floating around her head it still feels like three  _ years _ before she finally hears the footsteps heading towards her cell.

And this time, she’s ready.

She springs into action the second the door opens, going low and sliding between their legs and out into the corridor. Then she’s up on her feet and running for her life. It doesn’t matter that she has no idea where she is, or which way is out. All that matters is the overwhelming need to get  _ away. _ Rhiona doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t dare look behind her, even as she hears the shouting, even as she hears the tell-tale sound of boots scrambling to catch up with her.

All told, she makes it a good ten meters before they grab her. She lashes out even as two pairs of hands clamp down on her arms, aiming forceful kicks at their shins and groins. One connects, and it’s enough of a shock to the (large) Chiss that his grip loosens. Taking advantage of this, Rhiona aims at the other guy, but apparently her luck for the day was all used up on the first one because this guy doesn’t even budge as her foot connects. By then the first guy has recovered, and he grabs onto her arm so forcefully that she can already feel the bruises forming.

But Rhiona Lascelles does not give up so easily.

It seems, however, that they (whoever  _ they _ are) are well aware of this fact as two more Chiss enter the corridor, these ones pushing a narrow medical cot. The sight of the thick, leather restraints sends a deep sense of dread to the very pit of her stomach, and as they strap her down there are already tears springing to her eyes.

All the begging and pleading in the world doesn’t seem to have any sort of effect on them as they push her down the corridor, not stopping until they reach the same small clinical area from the other day. But instead of the sound of a drill followed by blinding pain, they’re strapping two large pads to either side of her head, and—

Wait; why does it feel like this has happened before?

Next comes something that feels (and tastes) like rubber being shoved into her mouth, and an impending sense of doom (and overwhelming sense of deja vu) when she hears those pads humming to life before emitting an electrical  _ zap! _ She cries out, the noise muffled by the thing in her mouth. That impending sense of doom increases ten-fold, and then—

~~~

Rhiona wakes up in a heap on her bed, feeling like she’s just lost a fight with a rancor.

It only takes a few moments to figure out that that’s not the only thing that’s wrong; a quick glance at the cell confirms that this is  _ not _ her usual cell. The all-white jumpsuit (that matches the all-white cell) only solidifies the fact that something ain’t right. For a moment the panic takes hold; blinding, breath-taking, all-encompassing panic.

Where is she?

Is it some other part of the prison? Like where they sent the  _ really _ bad folks? Had she gotten in one tussle too many? Had Eli (finally) grown tired of waiting for her to give them some sort of useful information?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Every muscle in Rhiona’s body tenses as they get closer. She may not know where she is or what’s going on, but she does know this: Rhiona Lascelles does not go down without a fight.


End file.
